


When the Morning Comes

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: Bill makes a mistake that he's determined to rectify -- the problem is convincing Remus to let him.





	When the Morning Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004.

When the door of Albus' office opened and Remus stepped inside, Bill smiled in spite of the wrenching twist of his stomach. They hadn't seen much of each other over the past year, and each time they did, Bill hoped to see the tiniest hint of a thaw in Remus' demeanor towards him, but judging by the way Remus glanced at him with cool appraisal, he didn't think this would be the time. 

Remus smiled and greeted Albus warmly as he moved towards the chair next to Bill's, and then he turned the smile on Bill, but it came nowhere near his eyes. "Hello, Bill." He was polite, of course. Remus was always polite to Bill, but it was the kind of politeness that served as a thin covering for thick stone walls with gun turrets and a huge sign reading, "Piss off, you bastard". 

"Hello, Remus." Bill schooled his face into a neutral expression, not wanting his disappointment to show. He didn't blame Remus for being wary of him, but he thought that after enough time had passed, Remus would relent at least a little. Bill knew he could have gained Remus' forgiveness more easily once upon a time, but Remus had changed over the past few years. Being outed as a werewolf to the public, dealing with harsher laws against werewolves, regaining one of his best friends only to lose him again -- it had hardened Remus, and now Bill was feeling the effect of that new, harder edge. He had brought it on himself, he knew, but that didn't make it any less difficult or painful to face, especially since he regretted his mistake more than anything else. If he had that awful morning to do over again, he would say and do everything differently. 

It happened just over a year ago, a few weeks after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Remus was still grieving for his lost friend, and Bill was mourning the end of his relationship with Fleur. He and Fleur had separated by mutual agreement and parted as friends, but after having been with someone for so long, Bill had felt oddly disjointed at finding himself single once more. He was the odd man out with their couple friends, and he was depressed over the thought of facing the dating process again; he was reaching the age where crowded clubs with loud music and drunk patrons weren't as appealing as they once were, and he didn't fancy his chances of meeting someone compatible at work. He wasn't meant for an office job, and he was surrounded by people who weren't stifled by being inside all day every day and who didn't understand his yearning to be under the blazing Egyptian sun. 

It was in that morose state of mind that he had encountered Remus at the Leaky Cauldron, where they had both gone to drown their sorrows for an evening. They shared a table, they shared a few drinks, and then they shared a bed. Bill hadn't been so drunk that he didn't remember he had initiated it. He remembered all too well how he had been captivated by the sight of Remus in the light of a street lamp outside Bill's building; his cheek had looked as pale and smooth as marble, and Bill had wanted to touch it. Touching had led to kissing, and kissing had led to tearing off each other's clothes in the semi-darkness of Bill's bedroom. 

That he wasn't entirely straight hadn't been a surprise to Bill; he had indulged in adolescent groping with some of his male schoolmates, enough to know that he was aroused by other men as much as he was aroused by women. But his experience with boys at school hadn't gone beyond a few sloppy kisses and fumbling handjobs in the Quidditch changing room or a dark alcove, where the danger of being caught kept the pace quick, both of them keeping an eye and ear out for approaching footsteps even at the height of their pleasure. 

Since leaving school, he had dated women when he dated, which was rare; his time and attention was devoted to his work, and it wasn't until he returned to England and Fleur came along that he decided to give a relationship a try. He hadn't been attracted to any men enough to pursue them, however; he had his head turned by an attractive man once in a while, which sometimes led to an anonymous encounter in the form of a handjob or blowjob in the nearest loo, but he had never met anyone who intrigued him enough to do more. 

Apparently the combination of fire whiskey and Remus Lupin had been enough to change all that, but when he woke up the next morning with a sore arse and another man's arms around him, he had been rattled. Unprepared for the unexpected intimacy, he had launched into an awkward little speech that contained the phrases "not a good idea", "unfortunate mistake", and "just friends". He also recalled blaming it on the alcohol.

Remus listened silently, and over the course of the speech, Bill could practically see a door slamming shut in his eyes. When Bill finally stopped talking, Remus' expression was stony, and he didn't say a word as he rolled out of bed and got dressed. Bill watched with a growing sense of dread roiling in the pit of his stomach and making him feel sick in a way that had nothing to do with being hung-over; he had the inexplicable feeling that he had just made a colossal mistake, although he didn't know why. He tried to apologize, but Remus bade him a polite good-bye and walked out without another word or a backwards glance.

That he knew he had hurt Remus was bad enough, but when the shock wore off and he realized how much he had _liked_ the shagging, he felt even worse. He lay in bed that night and remembered the feel of Remus' weight on top of him, the slow slide of Remus' cock inside him, and Remus' slender fingers wrapped around him, stroking him with the rhythm of each thrust. He looked in the mirror and saw the fading bruises on his neck and shoulders where Remus had bitten and sucked; if he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Remus' teeth on his skin again, and it made him shiver. He remembered looking up and seeing a predatory gleam in Remus' eyes, a wildness that resonated with something inside him, and he still felt the echoes in his soul when he looked at Remus and remembered his glimpse of what lay behind the calm mask. 

"Thank you both for coming," Albus said, jolting Bill back into the present, and he tore his gaze away from Remus, forcing himself to concentrate on what Albus was saying. "As you know, Bill, we have been in negotiations with the werewolves, and now, thanks to Remus' efforts, we are on the verge of having a solid alliance." 

"That's very good news, sir," Bill said, wishing he could congratulate Remus on his efforts, but he knew the gesture wouldn't be well received. 

"Indeed it is." Albus smiled and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach as he regarded both of them. "Not all werewolves are willing to ally with the Order; some have already pledged their allegiance to Voldemort. However, I am most grateful to those who have chosen to fight with us, and I have no doubt they will be as much of an asset to us as you have been, Remus." 

"Thank you, Albus." 

"The only thing that remains to formalize our agreement is a ceremony, one that I am given to understand is performed when one werewolf pack allies itself with another or settles matters of territory boundaries. Remus will participate, of course, since he has served as our liaison from the beginning; however, Mr. Pryce has requested that a non-werewolf representative of the Order attend as well, as a gesture of acceptance and welcome. You, Bill, will accompany Remus and participate in the ceremony with him." 

Bill froze, torn between surprise, delight, and dread. Remus had avoided being alone with him, no matter how hard he tried to make it happen, but he felt certain that if they could have some time alone together to talk, Bill could explain and apologize, and perhaps they might find their way back to being friends, even if anything more was out of the question. But no sooner had he opened his mouth to accept when Remus spoke up.

"I'd prefer to take someone else, Albus." His voice was level and cool, betraying nothing of his feelings, but the mere fact that he refused to take Bill was disheartening. 

"There is no one else." Albus leaned forward, gazing steadily at Remus. "We have very few available operatives at the moment, and of those, Bill is the most suitable. Alastor lacks the necessary people skills, Severus is not as sympathetic to werewolves as our representative should be, and Harry and his friends are too young for the -- ah -- revelries to follow."

"What about Kingsley or Nymphadora?"

"In the field," Albus said in a tone that implied he didn't intend to impart any more information than that, and apparently, Remus knew better than to push, because he fell silent, a tiny frown creasing his brow. "I must confess some bewilderment as to why you object to Bill attending the ceremony with you. He harbors no prejudice against werewolves that I am aware of, he is capable of taking care of himself should trouble arise, and he is neither lacking in tact--" 

Bill studiously avoided looking at Remus, not wanting to see his reaction to that remark. 

"--nor unworldly enough to be shocked or offended by what comes after."

Intrigued, Bill considered asking what Albus meant by that, but he held his tongue, waiting to see the outcome of the conversation before asking his questions. 

"You're right, of course." The distantly polite tone was back, and Bill gritted his teeth with frustration; this was not going to be easy, not in the slightest. "We should probably see what Bill has to say, however. He may have some objections of his own." 

"None whatsoever." Bill smiled ingenuously."I'd be happy to attend -- although I must say I'm curious about the revelries you mentioned."

Albus' lips twitched beneath his beard, and he cleared his throat. "I shall leave that for Remus to explain. Sherbet lemon?" Albus met Bill's guileless smile with one of his own, and Bill raised an eyebrow even as he refused the sweet. 

"Well?" He turned to Remus, who accepted the sweet Albus offered while avoiding eye contact with Bill. 

"Werewolves tend to be somewhat earthy and sensual creatures, especially when we're together," Remus said tersely, and Bill repressed a shiver as his words evoked memories of their night together; Bill could certainly attest to the truth of it. "Our ceremonies generally end with a celebration. Said celebrations often become--" He paused, as if searching for the right word. 

"Orgiastic?" Albus supplied helpfully. 

"I was going to say 'impassioned'." 

"Frenzied, more like," Albus replied. "I remember back in 1932, I was invited to--" He cut himself off abruptly, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he looked back and forth between them. "But I imagine that's rather more information than either of you want." He turned to Bill again. "Does knowing the nature of the celebration change your mind?"

"No, sir." If anything, it made him even more resolved to go. Perhaps if Remus had a drink or two, he would be more receptive to listening to what Bill had to say, and if they just happened to get caught up in the more carnal aspect of the celebration after their talk, well, Bill certainly wouldn't be giving any speeches the next morning about how it ought not to have happened. Not this time. 

"Then it seems the matter is settled." Albus stood and stretched out his hand across the desk to both of them, and they both rose and shook hands with him. "Thank you for your cooperation, and I wish you the best of luck."

* * *

Three days later, Bill was trudging through a gloomy, tangled forest that made the Dark Forest near Hogwarts look like an light and cheery place to frolic; he was following Remus, who had barely spoken three words to him since they left London. They had made the first leg of the journey by broom -- Bill had his own, and Remus had borrowed Harry's -- so Bill couldn't fault Remus for not being talkative then, although they could have chatted a bit; it simply would have meant flying closer together and raising their voices. But Remus had taken advantage of the speed of Harry's broom and flown ahead of Bill, out of earshot. 

Once they landed, Remus explained that they would have to walk the rest of the way, as the camp was too deep in the forest to Apparate reliably; given it was already growing late in the day, Bill assumed that meant they would have to stop for the night, which pleased him. It would give him a chance to approach Remus and hopefully make a start at mending the rift between them before the ceremony, and he decided that if Remus showed any sign of pushing on until they reached the camp, he would feign being too tired to keep going. He would whine if he had to; he'd learnt the art of whining to get what one wanted from the best teachers: his younger siblings. 

But shortly after dusk, Remus stopped in a small clearing and lowered his rucksack to the ground, propping it against the trunk of the nearest tree. "We can stop here, if you like." 

Bill glanced around and then nodded. "There's plenty of room for the tent."

"You brought a tent?" 

"Just in case," Bill said, kneeling on the cool grass to unpack his own rucksack. "It's small, but it'll do. I used it when I had to stay on-site in Egypt."

He had shrunk the tent to make carrying it easier, but it was a quick and simple matter to enlarge it again and set it up; within fifteen minutes, it was ready for their use, and he held the flap open, inviting Remus to step inside and have a look around. Small lanterns sprang to life when they entered, and Bill felt a little twinge of nostalgia as he took in the familiar sight.

His desk was just as he had left it, the cubbyholes stuffed full of parchment and tools -- small brushes, a magnifying glass, and a compass among them -- scattered on top. A couple of framed prints hung on the walls, reproductions of Egyptian tomb art that had caught his eye, and a thick rug muffled their footsteps as they walked across the center of the room. He hadn't cleaned up before packing up at the last site, and there was still sand on the floor, and he thought the air still smelled of the incense his Egyptian co-worker had burnt to appease the gods before they began work every day. 

Casting a surreptitious glance at Remus, who was perusing the bookcase, he was glad he had indulged in a double bed for his own comfort instead of furnishing the tent with a narrow cot; there was enough room for both of them to share, and he hoped by the end of the night, Remus would be willing. 

"I may still have some tea left, if you'd like some," Bill said, moving to the cupboard in the tiny kitchen area, but Remus shook his head and sat down in the chair at the desk. 

"I'd rather have something to eat and then go to bed. I want to get an early start in the morning." 

Undaunted, Bill filled his strainer and rummaged around for the kettle, tapping it once to fill it with water and then again to heat it as he lowered the strainer into the water. "Suit yourself." 

Remus went out to fetch his rucksack and returned a moment later, moving to join Bill in the kitchen but holding himself carefully away. Opening the bag, he unpacked a couple of thick roast beef sandwiches and a covered flagon of pumpkin juice, which he placed on the counter near Bill, and Bill silently pulled out a couple of plates and a single glass. Remus could have the juice; Bill wanted tea.

He perched on the edge of the bed with his sandwich and tea once it was ready while Remus resumed his place at the desk, and they began to eat. At first, Bill tried not to fidget from the awkwardness from the silence, but the heavy emptiness between them seemed to grow and become more oppressive until finally, he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. 

"Remus, I'm sorry."

Remus glanced at him, one eyebrow arched in what was remarkably similar to one of Snape's haughty expressions, and Bill wondered if he had been taking lessons. But then he waved one hand and shook his head. "You needn't apologize. I understand."

"No, I don't think you do," Bill said, setting aside his sandwich and tea. With his stomach tying itself in knots, the rich meat no longer had any appeal for him. "That was my first time with a man."

"Gobsmacked" didn't begin to cover the look on Remus' face, and under different circumstances, Bill might have laughed, but the situation was far too serious for him to find amusement in it now. 

"What?" Remus was still gaping at him, shock and disbelief clear to see in his eyes. "But you didn't say anything -- I had no idea--"

"I was drunk and relaxed, and I was enjoying myself too much to think about saying, 'oh, by the way, I've never had anyone's cock up my arse before'. At the time, I didn't care," Bill said. "It wasn't until the next morning that the enormity of what I -- we -- had done hit me. Then I was shaken."

"Are you saying you'd never done _anything_ with a man before that night?"

"No, no." Bill shook his head, and Remus' shoulders sagged slightly, as if with relief. "I kissed a boy for the first time when I was fourteen, six months before I ever kissed a girl. Snogging, handjobs, blowjobs -- I'd done all that. I'd just never fucked a man or been fucked before."

"Did you not want to?" Remus was still watching him with trepidation, his tone cautious. 

"The idea didn't disgust me, but I hadn't met anyone I wanted to do anything more with than a quick blowjob."

"But you let me fuck you." 

"Yes." Bill met Remus' gaze evenly, hoping the implications of his affirmation would sink in. 

Remus glanced away and raked his fingers through his hair, sighing quietly. "I thought you were horrified at waking up to find you had slept with a werewolf."

"No, that wasn't it at all," Bill said earnestly. "I was shocked and hung-over, and I wasn't thinking clearly." He paused and drew in a deep breath before admitting, "I was scared, too. I was feeling a little raw after Fleur, and I was afraid of what it meant that I would let you fuck me so easily."

"I see." Remus picked up his glass and took a deep swallow of pumpkin juice, as if to fortify himself, and Bill wondered if he was wishing there was something stronger in that glass. "I'm sorry, too. If I had known... If I had even guessed it was your first time, I would have handled it differently."

"You didn't hurt me, at least not in any way that I didn't like," he amended, thinking of the bite marks. "What we did unsettled me, but not how we did it. There's nothing for you to apologize for -- _I_ seduced _you_ , remember?"

"All too well," Remus murmured, staring into the depths of his pumpkin juice, and Bill felt a curl of warmth in his chest. Perhaps luring Remus back into bed with him wasn't out of the question after all. 

"Forgive me?" 

"Yes." Remus looked up and smiled, and this time, Bill could see that it reached his eyes. 

Rising to his feet, Bill approached Remus' chair, and Remus watched him with a quizzical expression for a moment before standing up as well. Bill stopped in front of Remus, standing just inside his personal space, but Remus didn't move away, and, taking that as a good sign, Bill reached out and rested his hand on Remus' chest, stroking his maroon jumper. They had both worn Muggle-style clothes suitable for hiking through the woods, for which Bill was grateful, as having Remus' jeans-clad arse as his view was not something he intended to complain about. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly. "Let me make it up to you."

Moving closer, Remus rested his hands on Bill's hips, and desire kindled in his eyes when he gazed up at Bill. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, his voice low and husky. 

Sliding his hand up to rest in the curve of Remus' neck, Bill bent his head and brushed a kiss against Remus' mouth. "Something involving me on my knees for you."

Remus' fingers tightened on his hips, and he heard Remus' sharp intake of breath. "That sounds acceptable."

A wicked smile curved Bill's mouth as he slowly knelt and stroked the hardening bulge beneath the fabric of Remus' jeans, pleased by the soft moan that evoked. He took his time unfastening the fly buttons, nuzzling his cheek against Remus' hip as he worked; he had spent a year living off alcohol-muzzy memories, and now that he was experiencing the reality again, he intended to savor it. 

As Bill freed his cock, Remus untied Bill's ponytail and began combing his fingers through Bill's hair, smoothing it back from Bill's face and massaging Bill's scalp gently, and it was Bill's turn to moan, closing his eyes to enjoy the attention for a moment. Curling his fingers around Remus' cock, he stroked it from base to tip and back again slowly, leaning his head against Remus' stomach while Remus continued finger-combing his hair, neither of them seeming in any hurry.

Running his thumb around the head, he gathered up the leaking fluid and brought it to his mouth for a taste -- something he didn't have a chance to do the first time. His appetite whetted, Bill replaced his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around and around before teasing the slit; Remus tightened his fingers in Bill's hair, and Remus' harsh, panting breaths broke the silence of the tent. 

Closing his hand around the base, Bill drew Remus' cock into his mouth, taking it as deep as possible for a moment before drawing back; flattening his tongue, he pressed it firmly against the underside as he bobbed back and forth, and Remus dropped his hands to Bill's shoulders, moaning as he clenched Bill's sweatshirt in his fists. Pleased by the response, Bill began to suck harder, moving his mouth on Remus' cock faster, and Remus' moans grew even louder; Bill could feel Remus' body growing taut, and he slid his free hand along Remus' thigh up to his balls, stroking and fondling them carefully. A hoarse cry escaped Remus' throat as his hips surged forward, and he came, fluid spurting in Bill's mouth, and Bill moaned as he lapped at Remus' softening cock, reluctant to withdraw.

Rocking back on his heels, he pulled out his wand and murmured "scourgify" before tucking Remus' cock back into his clothes and fastening him up again, and then he let Remus pull him to his feet -- and into a kiss. He remembered the hot, messy kisses they had shared before, fueled by lust and tasting of fire whiskey, and he had thought those were good, but this kiss was infinitely better. Framing Bill's face between his hands, Remus drew him down, coaxing Bill's lips apart with his tongue before claiming Bill's mouth with casual possessiveness that set Bill's entire body on fire. Moaning, he parted his lips eagerly and slid his arms around Remus' waist, the feel of Remus' slender body against his arousing him even more. 

As he tasted every inch of Bill's mouth that he could reach, Remus buried one hand in Bill's hair, anchoring his head in place, and slid the other hand slowly down Bill's torso until he reached the waistband of Bill's jeans; realizing what Remus was up to, Bill tried to help, both of them fumbling with the buttons one-handed until his fly was open. Easing Bill's cock free of his underpants, Remus stroked it with a slow, easy rhythm, swallowing Bill's groans as the kiss continued. Remus' fingers were warm and strong, his movements firm and sure as if he was confident in his ability to make Bill's knees buckle -- and his confidence was not unfounded, Bill thought as he fought to keep himself upright. 

With a last little bite of Bill's lip, Remus released him from the kiss, tilting his chin up so he could see Bill's face as he began stroking his cock faster, and Bill clutched his back, gasping for breath as he lost himself in the fiery pleasure of impending orgasm. He could feel it building as Remus' hand worked him faster, pumping harder, and he was close -- so close -- and then Remus slipped his hand down the back of Bill's jeans, kneading his arse and teasing his cleft, and Bill let out a ragged shout as he came, thrusting against Remus' hand. 

Sagging in Remus' arms, Bill clung to him, burying his face against Remus' neck and breathing deeply of Remus' warm, wild scent. There was so much he wanted to say, but it stuck in his throat, refusing to come out, and he thought that might be for the best anyway; they had sorted out their misunderstanding, and he didn't want to cause another one by babbling incoherently after sex again. 

A short time later, after they had cleaned up, finished their meal, and undressed, Bill spooned up behind Remus in bed, snuggling against him as he draped his arm across Remus' waist; one benefit to being the taller partner, he thought, was that he could curl himself around Remus, molding himself against every inch of Remus' body as if Remus was his own personal warm teddy bear. Remus had opted to wear his plaid flannel boxers and oversized white long-sleeved tee shirt to bed, and while Bill would have preferred sleeping naked, he thought Remus looked cute, like a Muggle child borrowing his father's clothes to sleep in, especially when he yawned and rubbed his eyes with his fists. Bill had stripped down to his underpants, and he insinuated his knee between Remus' thighs, tangling their legs as he settled in to sleep. 

"Remus?"

"Mm?"

"Just so you know," he said, nipping at Remus' earlobe, "I think this was a very good idea, it wasn't a mistake, and I don't want to be just friends."

Remus rested his hand on top of Bill's, twined their fingers, and drew Bill's arm closer around himself, tucking their joined hands beneath his chin. "Yes, it was. No, it wasn't. Neither do I."

Smiling, Bill sighed with contentment and gave Remus a little squeeze before closing his eyes and nestling into his pillow. "Good night," he murmured. 

"Good night, Bill. See you in the morning." 

And the morning after that, Bill thought as he let himself drift off to sleep. And the morning after that, and the morning after that, and so on and so on and so on...


End file.
